Titles
by Mick Howell
Summary: None of the Stark children liked it when the one closest to them called them by their titles.


ASOIAF

Titles

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.

Summary: None of the Stark children liked it when the one closest to them called them by their titles.

* * *

"You don't have to call me that in private," Robb said agitatedly for what seemed the thousandth time. Beside him, Theon's perpetual smirk widened.

"Of course. How could I forget, _Your Grace_." He said, and Robb shoved him, only making Theon laugh. Robb laughed, too. He couldn't help it; Theon's laugh was as infectious as a plague.

"Seriously," Robb said. "You don't have to call me that in private." He really did hate it. Besides his own mother, the only person who ever dared call him Robb nowadays was Theon, and even that was becoming a rare occurrence. It was becoming a slip of the tongue rather then a reflexive developed after years of friendship.

It made Robb yearn for another time. A time when his father was alive and well in Winterfell, and there was no crown sitting on his head, and he wasn't waging a war.

"Yes, I know. You've only told me a half-hundred times." Theon said. "But you're a king now. My king. You have to get used to people, even the ones closest to you, calling you by your proper title." He continued, sounding rather mature for once. Even his signature smirk was gone.

"What if I don't want you to call me by my title?" Robb asked sullenly. Theon laughed and his smirk returned. "Then all you have to do is command it, Your Grace." He said. Robb and Theon shared a smile then.

"Good night, Robb." Theon finally said as he made his way for the entrance to the tent. "I leave for Pyke in the morning and I need every ounce of sleep I can get."

"Good night, Theon." Robb said, watching his friend disappear out of the tent and into the cool night air.

* * *

"My Lady, don't. I'll get it for you." Podrick protested as Sansa attempted to heft a pack off of one of the horses. Sansa looked at him with exasperation. "Pod, I may not know how to wield a sword or shoot a bow and arrow, but I know how to untie a knot. And it's not that heavy. All it is is pots and pans." She said, her gloved hands once again going to work on the knot in the ropes holding the tarp-wrapped bundle of cooking equipment to the back of the saddle. Podrick looked on anxiously as Sansa's delicate, leather covered fingers worked the knot loose. The rope came apart, slipping from the bundle, and Sansa easily slipped it off the back of her horse and gathered it into her arms. She smiled at him victoriously. "See, no need to worry." She said.

Pod felt himself flush. He felt guilty all of a sudden for underestimating her. After all they had been through together since leaving the Vale with Jaime and Brienne, he should have known she could handle unpacking by herself. "I apologize, My Lady." He whispered, his eyes on his boots.

Sansa lifted his chin to look her in the eyes. "You don't have to call me that. You're my friend. If I can call you Pod with no titles before or after, you can call me Sansa." She said. Podrick felt his face go even redder.

"But, but My Lady, that would be rather improper, don't you think?" He stammered.

"There are worse things you could do to dishonor me than call me by my name, Pod."

"Are you sure? I mean, what about when Ser Jaime and Ser Lady Brienne are around?"

Sansa chuckled. "I doubt they'll see anything wrong with it. And if they do, well, they are sworn to me. I can just order them to not give you trouble about it." She said, and she took his hand in hers. Podrick swallowed.

"Really?" He asked. She nodded and then started tugging him gently away from the horse.

"Come on, Pod. Let's go get the fire started. Jaime hasn't shut up about his growling stomach in hours." She said, smiling at him.

"O-Okay," He stuttered, though he felt himself smiling broadly like a fool. "Okay, Sansa."

* * *

"Nice to see you again, Milady." Was the first dumb thing the stupid bull said to her when they came face to face after so long. Arya didn't know you could be so happy one minute and so angry the next. She punched him in the gut, making him double over and go to his knees in the snow. Around the two of them, she could feel many stares and heard surprised reactions. Behind her, she was sure Daenerys and Jorah were bugged eyed.

Gendry grinned up at her. "Did I do something to offend, Milady?" He asked cheekily. Arya ferociously wiped away her tears, hating herself a little for having cried over seeing this stupid bull after so long. But she went to her knees and wrapped her arms around him as far as they could go.

"Don't call me Milady." She shouted, though her voice was muffled by the leather of his jerkin. Gendry hugged her back and chuckled into her hair.

"I missed you, too, Arya."

* * *

"I see that you have decided to grace us with your presence today, My Prince." Meera teased as Bran opened his eyes and rolled himself onto his side to face Meera.

"How long this time?" He yawned. "Few days." She answered absently as she sharpened her weapons. "Not as long as last time. That's good." She added. Bran nodded. Since leaving the cave, Bran had made an effort not to slip out of his skin for such long periods.

"Where's Hodor and Summer?" He asked. Meera set aside her tools. "Hodor's foraging and Summer's hunting. They only left a little while ago." She said. She crawled over to him and helped him sit up. "Any soreness? I tried moving you a lot, to keep bed sores from popping up." She said, and she lifted the hem of his tunic to look at his sides. Bran blushed a little, but stammered a no. Meera smiled. "Then I have done my job well, My Prince." She said teasingly once again. But Bran groaned.

"Please don't call me that. If my visions are right—" "They always are." "Not the point. But if they are, then I'm not going to be King someday, or rule Winterfell. So could you stop calling me Prince?" He pleaded. Meera smiled at him and reached out to ruffle his hair. He pushed her hand away. "Please?" Meera sighed.

"I was only teasing." She said glumly. "Then could you cut out the teasing, please?" Bran asked. "I'm not your prince. Not anymore. You don't have to keep calling me it, or even keep serving me like you do once we get to Castle Black. Don't feel so obligated to me, Meera, please." He said, and Meera looked at him a moment and then away.

"You'll always be My Prince. Mine and Jojen's." She said simply. Bran saw the sadness in her green eyes and felt terrible. He reached out and took her hand. "I would rather be your Bran." He said in a whisper, and she looked at him with a raised eyebrow and as if she were holding back a laugh. "My Bran?" She asked. "What does that make me then? Your Meera?"

Bran knew he was turning red, but he smiled at her and whispered, "Maybe." Meera finally did laugh and ruffled his hair, and Bran frowned, feeling disappointed. But then Meera said, "Fine, then. You'll be my Bran, and I'll be Your Meera." And Bran grinned like an idiot.

* * *

"DON'T CALL ME PRINCE!" Rickon shouted.

"THEN DON'T CALL ME PRINCESS!" Dorea shouted right back.

The two children squared off with each other, practically growling in each other's faces. Sansa and other members of Northern Court looked on, wondering if there was any worse way for two people to meet their future spouses. Not even an hour had passed since the girl had arrived in Winterfell, and already she and Rickon were ready to tear each other to shreds.

"I am no Princess!" Dorea shouted in Rickon's face, her gloved hands fisted at the front of her yellow dress. The poor thing was so unused to the cold, she was bundled up in so many layers she looked fat. "And I'm no Prince! I'm never gonna be King of anything! Never!" Rickon barked. Nearby, Shaggy was growling. Thankfully, he was chained up good and proper. "Good! Because I don't want to be a stupid Princess and marry a stupid Prince and have stupid babies just so someone can dash their heads against walls!" And like that, Rickon's angry expression fell and he looked at Dorea confusedly. Dorea was crying, and everyone looked on with wide eyes at the girl's proclamation, Northern and Dornish parties both.

"Dash your babes' heads? Who would do somethin' so awful?" Rickon asked with a quizzical tilt of his head. Dorea wiped away her tears and scowled at him. "You know who. Bad men. Like the Mountain. Father told me about what happens to Princesses and their babies when someone wants to get to a throne. They kill them!" She said. "I don't want to marry you! I don't want to be a Princess like Aunt Elia! But Cousin Arianne made me come here and now I have to marry you and be a Princess and have your babies and then someday someone's gonna come along and kill you, and kill our babies, and kill me, too! I don't want to be like Elia!" Dorea shouted. "I wanna go home!" She cried.

Rickon hesitantly reached out to her and took Dorea's hand more gently than he had anything since coming back from that island. "I'm no Prince, though. I'll be Lord of the Riverlands someday, but I don't wanna be King of the North. Neither does Bran. I don't wanna be like my brother Robb. I don't want to be no Prince either, because Princes become Kings and I don't wanna be a King." He said, and Dorea eyed him suspiciously a moment. "Really?" She asked, and Rickon nodded enthusiastically.

"We won't be stupid royalty, neither of us want that stupid throne or crown. We'll be a Lord and Lady. Or even better! We'll be just Rickon and Dorea!" He said with a wide, wolfish grin. Dorea smiled broadly in return. "That's a great idea!" She said, wiping away the last of her tears. Rickon asked Dorea if she liked to play with him then, and she agreed, and both took off and disappeared into the keep. Shaggydog broke free of his chain then, and chased after them, barking happily.

A crowd of dumbstruck onlookers were left in their wake.

* * *

**A/N: This made me smile a lot.**

**Hope you all liked it! Please Review and check out my other stories, as well! **

**This one is dedicated to Veridissima and Marina Ka-Fai, two of my most faithful reviewers! Thanks, you guys! Your reviews always motivate me to write more! **


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